


Paid in Full

by Margaery



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Broning, Dirty Talk, Friends With Benefits, Intercrural Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 00:23:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1584833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Margaery/pseuds/Margaery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rafa beats Pico 6-1 6-0 in Madrid. Pico has some ideas about how to pay Rafa for the tennis lesson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paid in Full

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this tweet](https://twitter.com/picomonaco/status/464060929358200832) of Pico's.
> 
> While this fic is inspired by the public personas of living people, nothing in it is true, and it makes no claims about the actual Pico Monaco or Rafa Nadal.

“Pesos, huh?” is all Rafa says, when he reappears in the locker room after his presser.

Pico’s stuck around after the match just to talk to Maymo, that’s all, no other reason, no reason to stay, no reason to keep an eye on the door. 

They must have told Rafa about his tweet in press. Pico grins as he remembers - _I hope Rafa’s nice and charges me for the lesson in pesos._

“I’m broke, man, you knocked me out in round 2, it’s pesos or nothing,” he says, mock-mournfully.

Rafa punches him playfully in the shoulder, as Maymo rolls his eyes at the two of them. It’s a lot easier to joke around after a loss when you never expected to win anyway. Okay, Pico might have hoped to do better than 6-1 6-0, but Rafa’s been in a bit of a funk lately, and he came out with something to prove. And if something to prove involved Pico getting his ass spanked, well, it happens. 

“Keep your pesos,” Rafa says. “You need them to buy me dinner.”

Pico looks him up and down, slow drag of the eyes. “Or,” he says, and grins, letting Rafa see his teeth, “we could skip both dinner and pesos, and I could pay you for the tennis class another way.”

“Oh god,” Maymo mutters, and stalks off.

~

“You’re really good at this,” Rafa says, his voice gone scratchy, his fingers tangled in Pico’s hair.

Pico sits back on his heels, letting Rafa’s cock pop out from his lips. “Yeah?”

“Unh,” Rafa says, complainingly, but Pico just jacks him slowly with one hand, motioning imperiously with the other for him to continue. “Your mouth is… really good…”

“You suck at compliments,” Pico informs him. 

Rafa makes an impatient sound, and untangles his fingers from Pico’s curls, bringing them down to rest against his lower lip instead. Pico opens his mouth and sucks them in, using his tongue liberally and lewdly.

“What do you want to hear,” Rafa says, low, “that your mouth looks good around my fingers, around my cock? That you suck cock like there’s a trophy at the end? That when you’re on your knees, you look like you belong there, that I should keep you there forever?”

Pico bites at Rafa’s fingers, and Rafa snatches them out with a muffled curse, trails them wet along Pico’s cheek.

“Something like that, yes,” Pico says, and smiles, before returning his mouth to its previous occupation.

“ _Dios_ ,” Rafa breathes, and throws his head back.

~

“Lesson paid for,” Pico says, grinning wickedly up at Rafa.

He pities everyone who doesn’t get to see what he sees, because if they think Rafa’s a sight on court, all covered in clay and fierce as fuck, they couldn’t comprehend how hot he is now, long expanses of bronze muscles and sweaty curls and dazed bedroom eyes. Rafa with a tennis racquet in his hand may be one of the wonders of the world, but Rafa in bed just after he’s come is another.

Pico knows he’s not the only one who sees Rafa like this. Even if he’d been straight, Pico doubts Rafa would’ve been able to manage a full-time relationship, with the demands of the tour and the absolute necessity of keeping the vast majority of his attention and focus on tennis. Rafa doesn’t do things by halves, and until he retires he’s in a relationship with tennis, and that’s it. And given that he’s _not_ straight, he can’t just dive in and out of a string of casual flings with cute girls, the way the rest of the Armada seems to operate (apart from Ferru, but then Ferru’s always been an old fuddy-duddy). So Pico’s always known that Rafa sleeps with other players, here and there, easy camaraderie when the celibacy gets to be too much. Perhaps Maymo too, though Maymo keeps his own counsel and Pico’s never been quite sure.

Pico likes to think he’s a little bit special, though. Rafa gives of himself to everyone he meets, but there’s just something between them that sings, and he can’t help the thrill he gets when Rafa gives him _that_ look, the look that instantly reduces the rest of the world to nothing.

The look he’s giving him now. “Get up here,” Rafa says, his voice a rasp.

Pico moves, because Rafa never has to tell him anything twice.

They kiss, leisurely. Pico runs his hands over Rafa’s arms, lets his fingers close around Rafa’s bicep, enjoying the feeling of the power under his touch. He never gets tired of touching Rafa, every last bit of him.

Right now, though, he kinda hopes Rafa has plans for touching _him_ , because, well…

The snick of the lube cap in Rafa’s hand means someone’s heard his prayers.

“Here,” Rafa says, and rolls them onto their sides. He reaches down and positions Pico the way he wants him, then says “Go for it,” against his mouth, chasing the words with another kiss. 

Pico’s not sure which he craves more, the soft dirty press of their mouths together, or the increasingly franticness of his thrusts as he drives between Rafa’s powerful thighs. He’s nearly there already, just from sucking cock, and the thought makes him moan into Rafa's mouth. Rafa’s hand is almost painfully tight on his ass, spurring him on, holding him close, clever fingers dipping down occasionally to brush across his hole, sending him shuddering up into the next thrust.

“Next time,” Rafa says, every word wrecked and clear, “you want my cock, Pico? You want me to fuck you until all you can remember is my name?”

“ _Rafa_ ,” Pico says, not sure if it’s a prayer or an exasperated cry, probably both, and drives even harder between Rafa’s thighs, every thrust perfect, and he wants it to never end, except he needs it to end, he can’t hold on much longer.

“Or maybe you ride me, let you do all the work, watch you take it,” Rafa says, every word filthier than the last, and Pico snaps, rolls on top of Rafa and silences him with his mouth, drives down hard and comes between Rafa’s thighs, shuddering through the aftershocks as Rafa rubs circles into his back and kisses him dirty and slow.

~

“Want dinner?” Rafa asks, frowning in concentration as he pulls his shirt on. Pico doesn’t know how Rafa always makes putting on a t-shirt look like so much work.

Pico yawns and stretches, rubbing his face in Rafa’s pillow. “I’m not paying.”

Rafa hits his foot, and Pico jerks away, yelping, because he’s ticklish, Rafa _knows_ that. “Didn’t ask you to.”

“Well, okay, then,” Pico says, loftily, keeping his feet well away from Rafa.

Rafa grins, the sunny happy grin of someone who’s bossed the competition on court and then bedded it afterwards. “We’ll call it paid in full.”

“Hmm,” Pico says, and stretches again, watching Rafa’s eyes skim possessively down his naked body. “Let me get back to you on the ‘in full’ part. I might want a nightcap after dinner.”

“Insatiable,” Rafa says, but he’s laughing, and Pico leans down to kiss him on his way to the shower.

~


End file.
